


Public speaking(The Devil)

by AprilFooled



Category: Arslan Senki | Heroic Legend of Arslan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mutants, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-03-27 02:08:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13870845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AprilFooled/pseuds/AprilFooled
Summary: The moral of the story?Public speaking is the Devil.





	1. chapter 1

Jaswant wiped the sweat from his brow and looked out at the crowd. A crowd of judging, expectant, impatient people, who were expecting his father but were going to get him. He clenched his sweaty hands, and stepped out onto the podium. Despite his misgivings, he didn’t yet know that the next twenty-four hours would make up the worst day of his life.

Nineteen minutes before Jaswant was reminded why he never became a public speaker

There was a Traffic Jam, and Jaswant's father was in it. This wasn’t unusual; it was London, at the hight of summer and people were flooding into the city, to show their support for the victim's of the recent mutant terror attacks and attend the rally that was being held by B.A.M (Britain against Mutants), they had won 17 seats in the last election and their leader, Gadevi wanted to be confident in a majority by next general election that rolled around. The rally would be the perfect platform to appeal to the broader, less obviously right-wing, demographics. His Fathers speech had been tailored specifically to women in the 25-40 bracket. But that didn’t matter; a speech,however cunningly crafted, wouldn’t help if his father was stuck halfway across London.

They had already delayed the opening speech and Jaswant felt the threat of the crowd becoming violent, bad, or losing interest,worse, keenly. Jaswant sat on a hard plastic chair in the tent that served as his temporary office as a buzz of activity went on around him, he had delegated every problem except the one he couldn’t solve. There was nobody he could early confide in; everyone thought that he'd got his job because of his Father and even if Jaswant was the type to confront someone head on, he didn’t feel he could deny rumours of nepotism when he knew they were true. It was easier to just let them despise him. He had to look busy though, as his subordinates pounced at any sign of weakness. Slightly wild eyed Jaswant grabbed a pen and started scrawling a shopping list; he needed to buy more cat food.

Ten minutes before Jaswant lost his job, his respectability and his favourite tie 

Problems were piling upon problems, and while Jaswant was prepared for any number of things, terror attacks included, the presence of the Head of Britian's only mutant rights organisation was something he was having trouble processing. They had arrived only minutes earlier and sat near the podium on the chairs reserved for the Press, on the pretext that they published a bimonthly newsletter. 

The newsletter was genuine, Jaswant had once read an issue, but normally never touched on anything political, instead it was a bizarre mixture of Cooking, Music, Geography and Art appreciation. They could only be at the conference to cause trouble. 

Concealed in his tent Jaswant peered out at them. It was easy to miss the notorious mutant leader at first; he was bracketed by two suit-clad men, both towering over him, each striking in their own way, one black haired and muscular the other obviously a mutant his eyes a shocking yellow that wasn’t entirely hidden by the long blonde hair which was tied loosely back from his face. 

Between them sat Arslan, sixteen years old. Even three years after his parents death mutant involvement hadn’t been proved or disproved. Rumours still circulated about the suspicious circumstances of their deaths and the family’s links to terrorist groups. Arslan himself had managed to generate great controversy in the short time he had been in the public eye. Opinions couldn’t be more diverse, Arslan was, if you believed everything that was said about him; a pacifistic terrorist, a philanthropist organiser of a mutant army hell-bent on word conquest, a traitor to his own kind, a woman and/or the Antichrist. He was a favourite of the tabloids so Jaswant recognized him instantly and no matter what his political views, it was incredible to look at Arslan and think that he could fly. 

One of the more competent, or rather more invasive, papers had estimated his wingspan at 6 meters across. The idea of someone being able to fly with such a relatively small wingspan would have been ludicrous if it were not for several other avian mutants with similar wingspans and recorded flights. Of course laws passed years before Arslans birth precluded him from flying. Jaswant wondered if his wings would just atrophy from disuse; maybe Arslan could have them removed and be normal. The thought comforted him; he didn’t like to think of a child getting caught up in the vicious world of mutants and their politics. Arslan sat happily, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was the object of the fear and loathing of so many people.

3 minutes before the biggest mutant related riot in British history

His father had suggested postponing his speech but that reeked of the incompetence that so many far-right parties were accused of. Many people already accused his Father of bigotry and if making a speech could change that, then Jaswant was willing to try, even if it made him feel like vomiting. It was too late to turn back. Jaswant lent forward, resting one hand on the podium. 

He tried to smile engagingly at his audience but realising how he must look, hunched over with a twitching grimace spread across his face, he straightened himself. Sweat trickled down his back, sticking his shirt to his back; he cleared his throat. “The our world, Ladies and Gentleman, is changing” he paused. 

In his Father's hands a pause would add weight to his words but it just made Jaswant sound like he’d forgotten the speech “And we must be the ones to resist that change” There was a murmur of – approval? He hoped it was approval. “How can we ever expect our” was it family or loved ones? Loved ones – more inclusive “loved ones to be safe if we don’t stand together against the biggest threat that mankind has ever faced!” 

There were cheers from the crowd and Jaswant felt faint from relief. He opened his mouth to continue but nothing came to him, he knew the speech off by heart, he knew it and yet in that moment it was all lost to him. His vision blurred and too late he remembered the notes he had prepared. Jaswant looked down at the Podium, aware of his oppressive audience. 

It only took a glance at his notes to solve his problem but when he looked up he couldn’t speak. He swallowed convulsively, eyes darting. His pulse fluttered; there were angry shouts from the crowd; his pulse pounded. Suddenly everything was too loud. 

Jaswant remembered being a little boy. Before he was adopted he used to live with his grandmother. She loved her friends and they loved too coo over her perfect little Grandson. Even he left the room he could hear them talk about him. They spoke as if they knew him so well that sometimes Jaswant feared they could read his mind. On very bad days when his Grandmothers friends assembled en mass in the parlour Jaswant would imagine himself into a dusty old cardboard box. He had always liked small quiet spaces. He wanted that sense of calm, the muffled sounds, the soft light as he struggled for breath before the crowd. 

Then the world went dark. Not black, dark, like someone had turned the mood lighting in a seventies bachelor pad down to its lowest setting.

There was silence, them the crowd went completely berserk. Jaswant knew that the mutants had all sorts of downright bizarre abilities but he had never heard of one who could instantly make any day overcast. Widespread panic quickly evolved into anger. Arslan was wide-eyed, protected on both sides by his two companions. Jaswant tried to catch the attention of his colleagues or the security hired for the event but he was ignored. A plastic deck chair was thrown through the air with wonderful(horrifying?) enthusiasm. Seeing that the situation was beyond saving, he ducked down behind the podium. A riot. Just the thing they needed to be associated with. 

He peered out from behind his hiding place and found himself staring straight into a pair of bright yellow eyes. The man reached out to him clumsily as if he were blind, grabbing his tie. Jaswant scrabbled back in panic. The tie tightened around his neck painfully and he struggled it over his head. He fell violently backwards and in a beat of his quickened heartbeat, was swept up by the yellow eyed man. 

The man set off, running through the raging confusion of people. Jaswant wasn’t hurt but he doubted that there was a dry cleaner good enough to remove the stench of beer from his suit. They reached a car, a sturdy black affair that probably didn’t do much to allay the terrorist rumours, which Jaswant found himself shoved in the back of. He stayed very quiet.

“Is that him?” a red headed woman was staring at him from the drivers seat “I've never seen an invisible man before” 

What.

“Yes” Jaswant jolted around to see Arslan, slightly worse for wear, buckling up his seatbelt “oh! I hope your feeling okay, you must have been very stressed for your power to manifest so suddenly”

There were no words.

“He'll be fine Arslan” said the yellow-eyed man “We all get through it one way or another and Alfreed? You've still not seen an invisible man. That’s the point of being invisible” 

He wasn’t- Jaswant checked his hands- he wasn’t invisible. Maybe he was concussed. Maybe they were concussed.

The car pulled out into the road. Despite reports of heavey traffic the roads were clear for them as they began to drive.  
The large Dark-hared man was sat on the front seat, tending to a long cut on his forearm with a rackety looking first aid kit.

“Are you going to let me go, or can I consider myself a hostage?”

The inhabitants of the car, had fallen into a tense silence, the silence of animals who are afraid to be hunted, and Jaswants sudden question made them start. 

Everyone turned to stare at him, even Alfreed until the blaring of a car horn jerked her attention back to the road. 

“You're not a hostage” Arslan said smiling gently towards somewhere about his chest region “Narsus just thought it would be best if you weren’t wondering about in your current state”

“My current state” Jaswant swallowed “tell me is my current state... not visable”

Arslan nodded.

“Okay. Alright” again silence “I want you to let me go now”

“Are you sure you-”

“I said let me out!” Jaswant surprised himself with the outburst of rage he felt. Somewhere deep inside he knew it wasn’t their fault but he didn’t want to empathise with them, didn’t want to have anything to do with them. The dark-haired man turned around and gave him a look that was as much a warning as any spoken threat. 

They dropped him rather unceremoniously on the side of the road, Jaswant got the feeling they wanted to be out of the city as soon as possible. His phone was taken from him and returned with a new number programmed into it. 

“You can always contact us if you need any help” Arslan didn’t look happy about leaving him.

As the car drove away and a city bustled around him Jaswant felt his mobile buzz. He looked at the caller I.D. It was his father. Jaswant took a very deep breath, not even trying to look composed. It wasn’t like anyone would be able to see him. 

The world was still its comforting grey as he answered the call.


	2. Chapter 2

The ugly white phone that rested on Jaswants small grey desk which was enclosed by the looming walls of his two by two meter cubicle, began to ring. Regular employees GenericTechCorp(customer service branch) answered the phones with headsets that looked like they were salvaged from the late ninetys and monitors that were only updated when they drew close to the date of their warranty, mutant employees only had their phones and an old binder filled with laminated manuals for GenericTechCorp products. It had barely began to ring before Jaswant plucked it neatly from its cradle 

"Hello, this is the GenericTechCorp Mutant helpline, Jaswant speaking, how may I help you?" 

"You can help me by taking some rope and hanging yourself with it you Mutant-"

Jaswant hung up gently, his hands trembling almost imperceptible. He reminded himself that it was all for the best.

A little over a month ago Jaswant answered a phone call from his father; a phone call that changed his life forever. In a matter of hours he had gone from asset to liability. A problem for his father to solve. Somehow Jaswants father, ever practical, managed to spin Jaswants situation into something positive for Britain against Mutants; it was held up as a perfect example of why screening for potential mutants should become compulsory. More open support was shown for the anti-mutant factions than ever before.

But Jaswant lost his job, his life and his family. Very quietly Jaswant dispersed from the political scene and sent to one of Britian against Mutants rehabilitation camps. He two days there before he was moved away to his current location and was found a suitable occupation.

Jaswant was relieved he didn't have to spend longer in the camp; all the long term residents were curiously dead eyed. He tried to convince himself the sacrifice was worth it, how successful he was depended on the day. And on bad days like the one he was experiencing, he found himself taking out his mobile phone and gazing at Arslans number. He knew it by heart. 

He left the office at five sharp, Jaswant didn't bother saying goodbye to anyone in the office; they were all in too much of a hurry to escape from their miserable workplace. From the office he took the bus to the block of flats Jaswant lived in. The fifth floor, number sixteen. For an hour after eating some dinner Jaswant looked at the daily papers and pretended to himself that he was interested in whatever scandal was dominating the head lines. Then he went to sleep. That night might have been like every other night Jaswant had spent in the flat if his mobile hadn't rung. Jaswant was startled awake. He wouldn't have found it so disturbing but for the fact that Jaswants had never so much as downloaded a personalised ringtone, let alone used one. Now however Jaswants phone was unmistakably blaring out a tinny version of Holding Out for a Hero. Tentatively Jaswant answered the phone.

"I sorry, we don't have much time" the voice sounded strange; mechanical "but you're in terrible danger."

Jaswant wasn't prone to outbursts of hilarity but the unexpected statement and the lateness of the hour startled a gasping chuckle from his lips. Then he heard a crash as his front door was crashed open. 

And the situation was looking a lot less funny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I asked around about the most depressing job ever - the overwhelming response was call center.


	3. Chapter 3

Jaswant tumbled out of bed, landing on the floor, still tangled in his bed sheets. He wildly searched for a hiding place, only to be reminded that he was far from his spacious London flat; it would take the intruder only minutes to search his pokey new residence. The block of flats was a new build, something which Jaswant had previously despised for purely aesthetic reasons. But when it came to evading possible murderers, nothing could beat a new build for silent floorboards and door hinges.

"Hello, hello? You're not dead are you?" the voice which had seemed so alien and ludicrous had become very comforting.

"No" Jaswant whispered creeping across the room to the door.

"Good. Now listen very carefully. Close your bedroom door. Lock it if you can" Jaswant followed the voices orders, his hands shaking as his slid the bolt on his door. His hand fell away from the door as the door handle began to rattle violently. When the door wouldn't open, the intruder started to force his way into the room. The man on the phone was still giving orders but Jaswant had abandoned his phone on the floor and was straining his weight against his bed, a heavy cast iron affair which was the only piece of furniture in the flat that wasn't some kind of off brand Ikea product.

It ground along the floor, agonisingly slow, leaving deep gouges in the carpet. At the door Jaswant upended the bed against it then retrieved his phone. It was difficult to hear the voice over the sounds of door caving in but he didn't think that it really mattered; in a minute, maybe two, his bedroom door would collapse. He ended the call and sat as calmly as he could a safe distance away from the door. He tried to summon on the strange darkness that hid him from the rest of the world, hysterically recalling the soothing advice of the reeducation videos he watched at the rehabilitation camps. 

Mutant abilities were often triggered by stress which was why mutants, licensed, safe, approved mutants were discouraged from public displays of strong emotion but Jaswant, despite feeling pretty fucking stressed, couldn't do it. His body stayed stubbornly visible. A long thin crack appeared down the center of the door, which was buckling steadily inwards. 

It was fortunate that he was so focused on the door; when the glass in his bedroom window was smashed, he was facing away from the blast. Lithe as a cat a black suited figure climbed into the room unclipping herself from her safety rope. Jaswant scrambled away from this fresh bout of madness. The figure lifted her helmets visor and Jaswant recognised the Woman who had driven Arslans car - Alfreed.

She smiled "Ah, so this is what an invisibale man looks like." and winked at him like she had just dredged up an ancient in=joke between friends. Jaswant allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. He had to hurry her over to the window as she was strangely unbothered by the looming threat of the man behind the bolted barricaded door. Jaswant had never been afraid of heights and he was a nimble if somewhat inexperienced climber but even a gold medalist in the presumably fierce worldwide ropeclimbing championship would be second guessing themselves five floors up and without a harness. 

"How are we going to get down" even as Jaswant spoke a long section of his bedroom door was pried away and a beefy arm reached into the room trying to push away the makeshift barricade. Alfreed told him to climb on her back and there way something so buoyant and joyful in the way that she moved to climb out of the window that Jaswant didn't register that she hadn't reattached her safety-line until it was too late. Jaswant knew that he had no rational reason to be afraid; it was obvious to him that anyone in the employ of Arslan would be a mutant and no one would just jump out of a window unless they were sure they could land safely. 

This calm cohesive train of thought ran parallel with his garbled scream as they plummeted towards the ground. There was an assumption made about mutants, that they were so far removed from humans they were like an alien species, tainted by an inescapable sense of otherness. That being said, the way Alfreed collapsed under Jaswant as she hit the tarmac at over 30 miles an hour felt worryingly human. Jaswant lay on top of her, winded and shell shocked but otherwise unhurt. He couldn't feel her breathing. Oh God, he couldn't feel her breathing. Jaswant rolled off Alfreed, and gently nudged her with the tip of one trembling finger. Suddenly, violently Alfreed inhaled. She lay face first on the floor catching her breath before turning to smile at Jaswant through the remnants of her cracked visor "Uh, sorry about that; I always mess up the landing... Oh. Oh. My. God."

"What? Are you hurt?"

Alfreed sighed "Only my heart."

She got to her feet and began tugging Jaswant away towards the road "My first solo mission and i was caught messing up on CCTV. Narsus is going to think I'm still a stupid kid" She pouted and Jaswant, barefoot and his oldest pajamas doing nothing to protect himself from the chill of the cold air, tried to think of something to say that wasn't a scream of pure frustration. 

The road was lined with cars and Jaswant looked hopeful at the promise of both warmth and an escape from the confusing and threatening events of the night. Instead Alfreed stopped next to a grubby white van, Jaswant heard distant footsteps; men running round from the front of the building and then another car blinked into existence in the middle of the road. Jaswants left eyelid spasmed but he schooled all his features that could be controlled into a look of nonchalance, like he routinely encountered magic vehicles. 

Jaswant was hurried into the car by Alfreed who then circled round the car and slipped into the drivers seat. As she climbed into the drivers seat a man climbed out of the drivers seat and into the back of the car with Jaswant. The man looked, in Jaswants opinion, like the front man for a failing indie punk band. As a rule Jaswant liked people who were neat, respectful and did their duty. Despite this man failing to satisfy Jaswant in any of those categories and despite his uncomfortable sense of horrified fascination he felt whenever he thought that the people he shared the car with were mutants(like him!?), Jaswant turned in is seat, slightly restrained by his already affixed seat-belt, and offered his hand and a tight smile to the stranger. Both were ignored; the stranger was staring intensely at the cars grimy floor. Jaswant let his hand drop, irrationally feeling more angered by that then all the other events of the night combined. A hint of suspicion unfurled in Jaswants mind and whispered to him that he had perhaps been too hasty in placing his trust in people who probably populated several government watch lists. The car started off just as Jaswant turned to see four men, rounding the corner of the Flats. They were all wearing black but nothing that could be called a uniform.

None of them were rushing; just moving with a single minded focus that set Jaswants heart thumping. Any thoughts of volunteering himself to them vanished. He waited for the car to be spotted but it was like they were invisible to them. A beat later Jaswant mentally facepalmed himself; an invisible man sat in the back of a mutant escape car could not afford to say things like "Its like they were invisible!!" because they actually were invisible. Fuck. The man next to him had his eyes screwed shut and the air around him wavered. Alfreed waited until they were a couple of streets away then she shifted up to a higher gear and the car sped off at a speed Jaswant was certain was not legal. He clenched his hands, stared at his lap and waited for someone to explain what was going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt that invulnerability suited Alfreed well.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my attempt at writing an x-men au despite not knowing much about x-men. 
> 
> I also cant do politics
> 
> The reason Jaswants dad was a no show was Arlan and co. fucking with the Traffic lights.


End file.
